


Love Is Not All

by maybemalapert (laconicisms)



Series: A Floating Spar to Men That Sink [3]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: AU after episode 1x09, Depression, Emotional Whump, F/M, Lucifer deals with emotions by denying he even has them, Miscommunication, Parental guilt trips, Penelope Decker's A+ parenting, Self harm (sort of), Starts near the end of 1x10 'Pops', Top Drop, cognitive distortion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 17:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10949250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laconicisms/pseuds/maybemalapert
Summary: Chloe tries to deal with the aftermath of topping Lucifer. Lucifer decides this is an excellent moment to reveal who he really is.Or:Chloe: I'm feeling guilty about hurting you.Lucifer: Let me show you how wrong you are by stabbing myself and running off to heal as proof.





	Love Is Not All

**Author's Note:**

> As always, all my gratitude goes to geckoholic for the beta.
> 
> Also, again, this did not go as planned, this time because Lucifer decided to throw a wrench into my plans. I just... I think I'm just gonna let them do whatever they want at this point. XD

The APB for Anne Martin had gone out hours ago, and Chloe was sitting at home, in her pajamas, eating junk food in front of the TV, because it was that kind of day. It had been that kind of week, to be honest. Instead of Lucifer and her having a discussion like two real, functioning adults, they'd been playing a game of cat and mouse. She'd tried to corner him several times the two days following their scene, but he'd apparently decided to avoid her as much as possible, going so far as to drive his own car so that he wouldn't be trapped into a conversation with her. Didn't trust her driving, her ass. In retrospect, whatever had made her think she could get her recalcitrant partner to open up about his feelings was beyond her.

Well, truthfully, he had shown up at her house the morning after and had seemed to want to say something, but he'd never actually come out with whatever it was. No, he'd just been completely weird, even for him, suddenly going from downright manic to stone-faced and monosyllabic for no reason she could discern. Later, she found drops of blood where he'd stood and wondered if he'd been hurt somehow, but since he made himself scarce she had no way of finding out.

And then he'd cut off _all_ contact, vanished the moment she stepped into his club, had Mazikeen tell her he was absent, when clearly he wasn't -- and when she'd tried to go up to his apartment, his ninja bartender had blocked her ( _"Do you have a warrant? No? Then fuck off."_ ), and she was so goddamn torn because.

Because she probably _had_ pushed him too far, and she hadn't meant to hurt him that way.

But also, she still didn't know if he hadn't known or hadn't told her about that particular limit, and if he had just kept this to himself, how was she to blame?

And this was her own fucking fault, because she'd known -- _known_ \-- scening with him would change their relationship.

But she'd thought it would turn less professional, maybe, not literally implode.

And she missed him and she felt guilty for not finishing aftercare. She wanted to take care of him, to make sure he was alright, after, but he wouldn't let her.

He was an ass.

And she'd hurt him, so of course he'd avoid her, and fuck. _Fuck._ She wished she could turn back time, or somehow fix this, but she could never fix anything at all, and every relationship she'd ever had had simply blown up in her face because she was who she was, and that person wasn't someone who was good at being friends or partners.

Chloe shoved another handful of Cheetos into her mouth, and kinda wished she'd choke on them.

As if it weren't enough that she… that Lucifer and her had had a falling out, her mother had shown up while she was investigating the death of Javier Arias and promptly kidnapped Trixie, so she could use her granddaughter to finagle a role. The same way she'd used Chloe countless times before. When her daughter had been born, Chloe had sworn to herself that Trixie wouldn't be dragged into the circus that was her grandmother's life, but she'd come home to find both of them vanished and a short message pinned to the fridge, telling her not to worry.

She'd worried; of course she had. She'd worried so much she'd gotten into a shouting match with her mother as soon as they came through the door -- and, god, Trixie looked like a live doll -- and had tried to throw her out of her -- her mother's, her _mother's_ \-- house before she did something she'd regret.

( _"You! Are in_ my _house. I'm letting you stay here, Chloe Decker, for free--"_

_"It doesn't give you the right--"_

_"You should be grateful!"_ )

Things had boiled up, come out, like pitch black tar from the deepest recesses of her soul. She ended up saying more than she had ever meant to say to her mother, and now Trixie was upset and her mother was spitting mad and piling on the guilt ( _"only letting you stay because of my granddaughter; maybe I can be a better grandma than mother"_ ) while Chloe was wishing she could stand on a cliff and scream into the void, and also her partner was still avoiding her.

It was a good thing she'd figured out too late that Martin had been the killer because if she had actually caught up to her at the restaurant, she… well, she might have taken her anger out on someone entirely _deserving_ , but Martin's guilt didn't give her the right to just _punish_ the woman any way she saw fit.

Like she hadn't had the right to put Lucifer over her knee like a naughty child when they hadn't had _that_ type of relationship? But they were adults and he'd _consented_ , dammit.

The buzz of her smartphone jerked Chloe out of that line of thought -- which was okay; she'd been down that way before, would revisit it, she was sure. She really didn't need to ruminate on it all night.

Grateful for the distraction -- maybe someone had caught Martin? Hell, she'd relish the chance to go into the interrogation room and lay into her -- she picked up her phone from the coffee table to see that Dan had sent a text.

_Work or private?_ She wondered as she opened it.

Private, as it turned out.

Definitely fucking private.

\--

The passive aggressive smiley had been the straw that broke the camel's back. It wasn't just that Dan dumped her via text message like some high schooler; he'd added a fucking smiley.

Chloe could kill that complete fuckface. Asshole. 

_Douche._

Just. She could… understand if he didn't want to… If he wanted to pull the plug. They'd been trying to find some common ground again, but there'd been a reason -- or several -- why she was living in her mom's beach house with Trixie. But couldn't he face her like a _fucking adult_?

She started eyeing the cupboard where her mother kept all the liquor and then decided she didn't want to drink anything that belonged to _her mother_.

_Wouldn't want to take advantage of her generosity._

_First Lucifer, then mom. Now Dan._

How had she managed to so completely fuck up every relationship in her life? 

With a jolt, Chloe realized that there was no one left. No one she could or wanted to talk to about this.

_God, I am pathetic._

_I can't keep going on like this._

She needed to do something. No, fuck, she _wanted_ to do something, specifically what she'd been trying to do for the past couple of days.

Talk to Lucifer, her _partner_.

And if Mazikeen stood in the way, she was just going to freaking bulldozer over her, ninja or not.

\--

Apparently, the universe thought she could use a break, because when Chloe trudged into Lux, Lucifer was sitting at his piano and singing, 'The Devil and The Deep Blue Sea.'

Even better, Mazikeen was nowhere in sight.

Chloe made her way towards him, winding through the nightclub's patrons and standing out like a sore thumb. She hadn't bothered changing out of her pjs, just thrown on a shirt and slipped into a pair of jeans that should have been in the wash, like, yesterday. Great impression she was gonna make, but she hadn't had the energy to care about her looks and was, frankly, surprised she'd even managed to leave the house.

Common folk wisdom had it you couldn't stay mad forever, and that was certainly true. She was just tired now. So completely exhausted the only thing she wanted to do was sit down and not move for a year, but she needed to fix _something_. Just one of her relationships because there was no one left. She was at odds with everyone in her life except her 8-year-old daughter, and she couldn't stand the feeling of--

She just wanted a friend, right now, _needed_ one, god, and she was being so _selfish_.

She was just about to turn on her heel when Lucifer hit the wrong key -- keys -- making everyone's attention snap to him, including hers.

It was only one chord, and he recovered quickly, but he was staring at her and her mouth went dry. People followed his gaze and she was suddenly at the center of attention.

She hated being at the center of everyone's attention; reminded her of her childhood, reminded her of Hot Tub High and her dad's funeral and that damn paparazzo -- and she was still dressed like a hobo.

Feeling the flush creep over her face, she grit her teeth and lifted her chin and glared at everyone who so much as glanced in her direction. It didn't take long for them to duck their heads and look away; all of them except Lucifer, who was in the last stages of the song, the last line, the last note, and the he was standing, and god. She didn't know what she was going to do if he walked away now, didn't know what she was going to do if he didn't, but she had better figure it out because he was coming right towards her. Dressed to kill, as always, and she found herself staring at his lapel because she couldn't meet his eyes. 

This would be easier if she were drunk. Back home, she'd been eying her mom's whiskey collection, but she hadn't felt she deserved drowning her sorrows. Now she was regretting that decision. Some liquid courage would help right about now.

"What are you doing here, Detective?" he asked, and it was so different to how he usually reacted when she came here -- the tone not warm or flirty, but cold, perplexed -- that it felt like a punch to the gut. Tears welled up, and she rubbed furiously at her eyes.

"Nothing," she said, and fuck. Her voice caught on that one word, and she should just _leave_. This was a stupid idea. Trying to patch things up was just a super stupid idea.

"Detective?"

_[New text message from_ Dan _: Think its better if we break up. :) ]_

"Detective?" He was in her face suddenly, brows creased in either confusion or, or concern?

She bit down hard on her lip because if it was concern, then. Then maybe she hadn't fucked things up as completely as she thought.

"Ah, perhaps we should take this upstairs," he said and put a hand on her arm and guided her towards the elevator, and, _Christ_ , they were going to be alone. Then they were alone, in the elevator, riding up, and it felt like the walls were closing in on her and it was hard to breathe. They were alone and they could talk and this was what she wanted, right? Why she came? A chance to talk to him? To fix this?

_[Think its better if we break up. :) ]_

There was a _ding_ , and the door opened, and then she was standing in the middle of the penthouse and Lucifer was walking around his bar, grabbing a bottle of something and a couple of glasses, and _she wasn't ready._

What if he was just going to tell her he wanted nothing to do with her?

( _"All I did for you, Chloe Jane Decker!"_

_"For yourself, you mean."_ )

Was it selfish of her to want things to be okay between them?

"Bottoms up, darling," Lucifer said, back in front of her now and handing her a glass. She took it out of reflex more than anything. Didn't _drink_ out of reflex; that was to calm her nerves. And for courage because, no matter how this played out now, she did need to apologize and make sure that he was alright.

"Now, what--," he began just as she blurted out, "I'm sorry." He blinked at her, and she continued before he could interrupt because if he did she probably wouldn't be able to get it all out. "I'm sorry," she repeated, and there she was dropping her eyes back to his lapel, "that I hurt you. I hadn't… I went too far." _And I should have checked in more, especially when I realised I might have been pushing past a limit. And then you didn't let me finish aftercare and you ignored me,_ but she couldn't say that last part out loud. She wanted to fix this mess, and bringing up her own grievances would do nothing of the sort, so she swallowed them down.

Lucifer made a noise eerily similar to the crackly bit of an old modem dial-up tone, then downed his drink as quickly as if he hadn't had one in years. "No," he coughed and cleared his throat. "No, you didn't."

"Then why…" she trailed off, but no. As unlikely as it seemed, he was probably sparing her feelings and, of course, he would start with that when they needed to be the most honest with each other. Chloe sighed and closed her eyes.

"Look, I appreciate you not piling on the blame," she said and stopped because did he just _growl_?

Chloe glanced up at him, but he wasn't looking at her, twisting his head this way and that before huffing, grabbing her free hand and _just shoving his empty glass into it._

What the fuck.

He took hold of her shoulders, catching her gaze, and she froze. "Stop apologizing, Detective. There is nothing to forgive."

Her eyes started to burn, and her hands were full, and apparently he didn't hate her or anything like that, and that was good, but not something she deserved, not really.

"Oh, please, don't do that." He looked uncomfortable, as if he didn't know what to do when -- no, clearly, he didn't know what to do. He had the emotional IQ of a child.

"Then why were you avoiding me?" she whispered.

He grimaced, eyes flicking away from her. "Because you make me vulnerable."

He was trying to spare her feelings, god damn it.

"I hurt you," she repeated.

"No!" He made a frustrated noise, and his grip on her shoulders tightened. "You make me mortal, Detective."

Mortal?

Oh, oh.

This again.

For a moment, Chloe felt relieved, but also worried because he was going to get himself killed one day, thinking he was invulnerable. Then Lucifer decided to descend further into his delusions.

"And it doesn't make any bloody sense! Only another angel could-- wait."

He released her shoulders, went around her, and pulled up her shirt.

"Are you wearing pyjamas?" he asked incredulously.

"Are you lifting my shirt?" she replied, momentarily forgetting how crappy she felt as she was trying to suppress the flash of embarrassment rising up. She should have changed out of them, fuck.

"Yes, I need to see if you have wings," he answered, and Jesus Christ. Why did he suddenly think she had the same kind of damage he did? Had she caused this? Had she somehow exacerbated his trauma?

"Fine," she said, swallowing. "Knock yourself out."

His hand was warm, was the first thing she noted. He was not being sexual about this, her second. No, it was all business, like being frisked. It disturbed her for some reason she couldn't explain.

"Nothing."

"I could have told you that," Chloe mumbled as his hands slipped away and he stepped back into her line of sight. He was frowning.

If she had somehow made things worse, it was probably near the end. Not the pain, the praise, definitely. She clearly remembered the keening wail he'd let out when she'd told him she was proud of him. "I shouldn't have pushed past your limits," she said, picking her words carefully. She needed to avoid talking about pain since he'd immediately go back to telling her he couldn't be hurt.

" _You didn't._ "

"No. No, I did."

He made a noise of pure frustration and stormed back to his bar. "This would be so much easier if you simply _believed me._ "

"Lucifer--"

"No." He started rummaging about, finally shouting, "Aha!" and holding up a freaking dagger. Chloe barely even realized what he was about to do before he _stabbed it into his hand._

"Lucifer!"

She put the glasses down on the floor and hurried towards him. He held out his hand to her. "Look." And then he pulled the dagger _out_.

"No! Are you insane?" She grabbed his hand. Christ, but it was bleeding heavily.

"We need to bandage this, and then--"

"That won't be necessary."

"You need to see a doctor!" Stitches. He definitely needed stitches. The wound went all the way through and she'd be surprised if he didn't have nerve damage. Fucking fuck.

She let go of his hand to pull her phone from the back of her jeans, but he snagged it out of her grasp with the hand still holding the dagger. "Ah-ah. Stay right here."

"Lucifer--"

"I'll get it healed, but only if you don't move."

_This isn't the time for games!_ she wanted to shout, and _Let me take care of you, goddammit!_ , but he had that stubborn look about him. She could either punch his lights out and drag him to a doctor, or she could play this stupid game. If it got him to go to a fucking doctor, she would put up with this bullshit. "Promise," she hissed, "promise you'll get this looked at."

"Yes, fine. I will. Now stay."

He strode into the elevator, trailing blood, leaving her standing in the middle of the penthouse like a package that had been ordered and never been picked up.

She felt like an idiot.

Worse, she felt like she'd somehow let him down. Again.

\--

Chloe was still standing in the same place when Lucifer returned only minutes later, hand still bloody, no bandage.

Of course not. There wouldn't have been time to find a doctor, never mind them taking care of his wound. Chloe hissed through her teeth. Enough was enough. He was going to let her administer first aid, or so help her god she'd knock him out and _staple_ the wound shut.

She was sure the glower on her face was impressive because after taking one look at her he held out his injured hand, unasked. She grabbed his elbow instead and pulled him towards the bathroom.

"Detective."

"Shut up," she snapped, grabbing a clean towel and handing it to him. "Press down." Next she turned on the faucet and started scrubbing her hands. "Where's your first aid kit?"

He sighed. "Under the sink. But it's unnecessary, I assure you."

She turned off the faucet with enough force she was surprised it didn't break and yanked open the little cabinet door. i>Should have done that first, dammit. "And _I_ assure _you_ that first aid" -- or aftercare -- "is _never_ unnecessary."

There really was a first aid kit underneath, bandages and disinfectant inside, and even a bottle of hand sanitizing gel.

"Okay," she said when she was ready. "Show me."

He lifted the towel and thrust out his arm.

Chloe stared, and then stared some more. There was nothing there. Oh sure, there was a lot of blood, but no wound as far as she could tell.

A trick?

No, she'd seen the hole in his hand.

And yet, this couldn't be real. She tried feeling for the wound, tried washing away the blood, tried looking at the other hand because maybe she was wrong about which one it was, but. But there was nothing to find.

"How is this possible?" she breathed.

"I told you."

_Invulnerable_.

_Immortal._.

Lucifer.

_The devil?_

"Christ."

"No, definitely not." She lifted her gaze to find him looking at her, expression as neutral as it could get. He was waiting for her to react, she realized, but she didn't know _how_. It was all too… ridiculous. Unbelievable.

When she didn't say anything for what must have been a minute at least, he pulled his hand away and cleared his throat. "So you see, detective, I was fine. No need to beat yourself up about a bit of pain."

"That wasn't--" she began, mumbling, still stuck on _the devil_.

She'd called him good.

The _devil_.

Chloe sucked in a deep breath, but it felt like there wasn't enough oxygen in the room.

"I mean, I meant…" The thought slithered away; she tried to keep hold of it, but it ran through her hands like sand.

"You're…" the devil. She couldn't say it. Saying it would make it real. "...invulnerable," she finished. That was safe.

He hadn't looked away from her once while she was grappling with her thoughts. "Yes, usually. Of course, I'm dealing with a case of temporary mortality whenever you are around."

"Me," she echoed, and yes. He'd said something about that, hadn't he?

Lucifer heaved a sigh. "Yes, I keep telling you. Normally, the only way I could get hurt is if one of my sibling shows up. Or if Mazikeen gets stab-happy with her demon blades."

He was still staring. She felt like a rabbit before… not a snake. Something big, enormous, something that threatened to crush her -- or crush her mind.

_Is this what happened to Jimmy Barnes?_

She didn't want to end up like that. She needed to… shove that thought away, shove it down. Ignore it.

_Find a distraction._

"When did you figure it out? The vulnerability?"

He made a face. "On the day we…" he motioned with his hand. "But I wasn't certain until the day after."

The day she'd _punished Satan_.

_Oh god._

"So," she said, licking her lips and finding her mouth dry, her throat hurting, her cheeks numb, "you should keep away from me. For your safety." And for her own, because.

_The devil._

"Yes. I mean, no!" He squeezed his eyes shut, features twisting as if whatever he was thinking physically pained him.

"But," she gasped out, "you said yourself that you're vulnerable around me."

"Yes, but, but I don't want to!" he exclaimed, eyes opening, and she stared at him, and he stared at her, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, like _she_ was scaring _him_ somehow. "That is to say that you... you need my expertise. You wouldn't be able to solve all these cases without me."

She nodded slowly; then belatedly realized that that wasn't how she would normally react.

_Shock._

Lucifer raised his eyebrows at her and waved a hand in front of her face. "Detective?"

"Yes?" she replied absently. She'd had the devil over her lap. And he'd been crying because she told him she was proud of him.

"Are you well?"

A hysterical giggle burst out her and she clapped a hand over her mouth. There was blood on it. Lucifer's blood.

He started to curse, grabbed her shoulders again. His face and his eyes were…

_Anguished,_ she thought. He looked anguished, in pain.

"Detective."

_Get a grip, Chloe. You're an atheist._

Could she even keep being an atheist now? No, that was a question for later, irrelevant right now. She swallowed, pulled at her hair, stopped, and thought.

Fact: her partner was the devil.

Also fact: She liked him, trusted him. A couple of days ago -- during one of those times she wasn't seething or guilt-ridden-- she'd even had the thought that he was the only one she could let down her guard with. He'd never lied to her.

_And he's your partner._

He'd always had her back.

Instinct made her lift her other hand to his face. She didn't like seeing people suffer. Didn't like seeing Lucifer suffer either. Didn't like to see the devil suffer, apparently.

God.

Chloe bit the inside of her cheek to keep another giggle in, concentrated on Lucifer instead, the way his skin felt underneath her hand as she dragged her thumb across his stubble. How his expression changed, became lighter.

His eyes were unsure, though. He was worried. About her reaction?

Her lips were tingling, but her heart was slowing from a gallop to a fast trot. "I'm fine," she said, voice barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat. "It's just… a lot to take in."

"Yes, well," he replied, then stopped speaking, obviously unsure how to go on. She found herself still brushing her thumb over his cheek. The look he was giving her was wild, afraid. Lost.

Like he needed direction, just now.

_Bad idea. We still haven't talked, not really._ But it seemed to be her week for bad ideas and worse decisions.

"I think we could both do with another drink," she said, putting more confidence into her voice than she felt at the moment.

Lucifer nodded, too often, too fast, and stepped back, letting go of her arms. He turned and left the bathroom, and she looked after him, still feeling out of sorts, still not okay, but just a bit more steady.

_I've topped the devil,_ she thought, fighting down hysteria once more. _And he let me._

From the main room of the penthouse came a crash, immediately followed by the sound of glasses rolling across the hardwood floor and Lucifer's, "Bloody fucking hell."

_Sounds about right,_ Chloe thought, concentrating on her breathing. _Fucking hell._


End file.
